


the fuck is up with seers and being doubted? an autobiography

by grimatrix (gigalomancy)



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, POV Second Person, Self-Reflection, there’s a lot of death talk here wooh, whoops! it’s all lowercase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigalomancy/pseuds/grimatrix
Summary: you’re alone in the graveyard again.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	the fuck is up with seers and being doubted? an autobiography

**Author's Note:**

> yo i’m writing this very late at night in traditional me fashion. anyway this is a weird “what if” fic where foz meets aradia pre-session through death/scratch/etc bullshittery or whatever. don’t think abt it too hard. this is probably ooc in many regions but i can’t be fucked to iron it out
> 
> also should mention, fozzers a seer of heart in this. that’s fairly important ahaha

your name is fozzer velyes and you’re starting to remember.

you’re not quite sure when it started. or rather, ended. you feel as if it’s been thousand of sweeps ago, but there was this lingering sense of furthermore. 

you arise from your crouched position on the clay floor, rolling your eyes and grumbling to yourself. just the remnants from your post-scratch self.

you start to walk around.

the whole thing was rather odd, honestly. you remember talking to someone, some sort of strange alien akin to cheese. you were discussing your hopes and plans rather diligently, when some woozy feeling took over and you forgot...a lot of things. you’ve only recently remembered them, though perhaps it’s only recent to you. 

still, as soon as you passed, the fog that had settled itself into your mind every since that night disappeared, or at least faltered. cleared up. lessened. and soon enough you knew everything again. 

it was rather uncomfortable, but you’re here now! it’s not like you can do anything about it, unless you’re gonna get ghost-scratched and forget everything again! or something along those lines!

you pause for a little to admire the same, repetitive terrain you’ve grown accustomed to. a cacophony of reminders has settled itself in your head now, like a swarm of worker bees.

you remember that you had died before you made it off-planet. 

and you know what?

that’s perfectly fine by you. 

stellar, in fact. you’re rather content living inside your hand-crafted ghost cemetery. it’s far more comfortable than any alternative, actually. you know this place inside out, despite the way it’s changed over the sweeps. 

still, it’s a lonely existence here, even despite the bodies. mainly cause most of them were able to leave, unlike you, who’s bound here by some sort of force. every time you do as much as step foot outside the boneyard border, the exact drunk feeling you experienced when you were scratched settles in like a plague. you’ve been too afraid to even try to run through it, or step further into it, or whatever other concepts you’ve thought of. you’re simply just not willing to lose your morals again. not now, when you know how fragile of a thing your psyche is.

you move quietly, a silhouette of the night. to think about your skepticism of ghosts now is nothing short of embarrassing and hilarious. you honestly never denied the undead. you were just so utterly afraid of them for whatever reason. one you can’t even remember. 

ah well, the cluelessness of living privilege. a mystery for the ages.

the floor under you is much harder than it was earlier. the entire landscape had adopted a slate palette, cold and uninviting, not like the lands you curated. though, you suppose, to others, it was cold and uninviting regardless of upkeep. 

you look up at the night sky. like always, the two moons hang above like crystal balls, the vibrant neons a lined blur.

they’ve always reminded you of a friend you had, long ago. their name was cirava, you think, and the fact you’re unsure scares you. but you remember their music. you remember their art. you remember their debates with highbloods. and you remember how one night they had messaged you, threateningly, the simple phrase, “i just gouged my own eye out.”

a rather dramatic conclusion to a friendship, you’d say.

later in your life you’d met charun, an oliveblood artist that you rather liked talking to. you’d already started your work when you met them, and it was a complete fluke you did. you were simply checking around for plausible terrain expansion and found them sorting through a garbage dump nearby. ever since you’d met up a lot, right up to when you were scratched. everything after that was...just as much of a blur as the moons. but they left you. you know that.

as did tyzias. you two never talked much, but only because your conversations spanned hours and hours and hours and were a dangerous prospect. you two could go on for hours about the injustices of alternia, the lack of choice or freedom for lowbloods. any topic, she’d find a way to make it a five hour conversation. any topic, you’d find a way to make it six. and so on and so forth.

now, thinking about your old friends isn’t something you do on the regular. you’d much rather focus on your own existence and how it was stripped away from you - not as fun of a conversation, but far less likely to upset you, in some odd way. and maybe you should’ve stuck to that, cause with every second that passes the pit in your stomach grows. you settle yourself down on the dusty floor, prodding unaffectedly at a pile of pebbles. you wish you could say you spotted the long-lasting lines of covered cadavers in the floor, but a hard, rocky shell bulwarked every inch of the expanse. you wish you could say you left your mark here. but your work was entirely erased, just like you.

a distant clambering noise echoes throughout the field, easy to hear as everything else. for a second you’re concerned, and then excited, for maybe a boulder had fallen or some sort of creature wandered in? but as you turn, you catch a glimpse of a troll.

the first person to come here in sweeps.

instantly you start to walk towards to meet them, your ghost breath caught inside your ghost throat. you can’t see who exactly they are, but they’ve got long, matted hair that drags behind them in the dirt. their dark skirt furrows in the apparent breeze, which you hadn’t even felt. you speed up a little.

after a moment, the person turns to face you. you instantly see her sign, a curled, burgundy one not unlike yours.

“hey.”

she’s utterly unfazed, looking chiller than most people you’ve met. you’re not quite sure how to reply.

“hello,” you managed to squeak out. fuck, your voice is like claws on chalkboard. you really haven’t talked aloud in a long time.

“who are you?” she asks, her face fixed in a far too wide grin.

you blink, seriously considering ghost identity theft or whatever to be a problem. you shake your head and extend a hand forward.

“fozzer velyes, proprietor of happy absence pit park,” you say, the words feeling odd on your tongue, “though it’s been out of commission for a long time.”

“oh yes, i can see that,” she smiles at you again, and stares.

boy, does she love staring. 

“i’m aradia.” 

“pleasant to meet you.”

she doesn’t reply, and keeps walking forward. you rub the back of your neck, curious, before trailing behind her.

“uh, what are you looking for?”

“nothing from this area,” she says, “i’m just passing through.”

“uh huh,” you reply, but crushing disappointment hits you like a tidal wave. of course nobody would stay here. you look behind yourself, observing the empty, cruel wasteland. of course.

you continue to follow awkwardly, and she doesn’t object. she looks lost in thought, but you can tell she’s observing you. she keeps looking behind her back, stopping a little every time.

“this is a rather empty area,” she commented, “i can’t see anyone like usual.”

you blink, a little confused. then, with a long “ooooohhhhhhh” you remember you were an oddity in your ghost beliefs. you cough, and add, “yeah. i’m the only one that finds this area pleasing to the eye.”

“it’s not too bad.” aradia shrugged. she started to walk again. “you sound a little disappointed. why haven’t you left?”

you draw in a breath, a little exasperated. this’ll make you sound out of your fucking mind, but...you’re a ghost. that somehow makes you seem respectable no matter what, right?

“well, i was a victim of identity theft, of the non-ghost variety,” you start off. “i was a devout rebel, protesting against the heiress’s rule. i had to be pacified though, for some damn reason and got...kind of memory wiped? though only certain things got erased. i’m still remembering them.”

aradia looks a little confused. she pauses, silent, and then asks, “the heiress?”

you’re equally confused about why she focused on that, of all the weird shit you’ve said, but decide to elaborate regardless. “yes, she’s awful. nothing but an enforcer of the hierarchy, which, don’t even get me started.”

“i won’t,” aradia smiles. “i should’ve asked first, actually. when did you die?”

you blink, but come up with nothing. concentrating a little harder, you try to remember a specific timeframe. this wasn’t some erased memory. quite the contrary probably, as you seem to remember those much easier than anything else. but no matter what happened, you can’t remember a date.

aradia hovers a comforting hand over your ghost shoulder.

“that’s fine, i just wanted to ask because i am  
friends with the heiress. she definitely stands against the unfairness of our caste system.”

“we are discussing different people,” you say, certain of that, at the very least. no fellow burgundy would ever associate with the heiress you knew. “i’d still say be wary. you never know what fuchsias will do.”

aradia looks a little less friendly than she did seconds ago, but says nothing. with an awkward laugh your walking slows, and you take in a deep breath. you don’t mean to act desperate, and you certainly wouldn’t mingle with a sympathiser willingly. but you’ve spent a lot of time alone. you’d do anything to just _talk_ to someone.

“i didn’t mean to offend you. if you’d like, i can say a few more things about little old me. of what i remember, that is,” you offer, apologetic. “or you can tell me about yourself.”

“there isn’t a lot to me,” she says, still apprehensive. “i like bones and escapades.”

“nice,” you nod. “i also managed the dead. didn’t believe in them though.”

aradia blinks.

“how could you not have? could you not see them?”

“i did. i denied them though.”

eerie silence takes over.

suddenly aradia looks at you. her eyes are glazed over in white, reflecting you.

you step back. confusion rakes at your throat, causing you to suppress a shocked wheeze. aradia’s face is blank, unchanged. you look up, the sky darkening into void. the moons shift their hues into opposite red and blues, flickering like lights. electric spikes hit at aradia, but she’s as solemn as ever. it’s more grim now, though. a screechy, broken laugh echoes into the air. her head cranes up, a mechanical sound in sync with her movement.

and just as soon as it happened, it was over. you blink a few times, but aradia’s just as she was seconds ago. her eyes are golden and her smile is present, though thrown off. it’s as if she’s wordlessly asking you to clarify why you fell on the floor and violently shook for a few seconds.

you open your mouth, a croaky sound coming out, and you close it again. aradia seems extremely young and impressionable. you don’t want to ruin her fucking life here. but as you rise, still trembling, you remember you were an advocate for truth. and if whatever the fuck that vision or whatever it was, was actually real...you feel like she should know.

“you’re going to die,” you say.

“obviously?” she laughs, looking away for a second. she then goes silent, lips pursed. “why did you-“

“no, i saw it happen. there were red and blue lights, and a laugh, and...”

aradia’s expression instantly falls, and she looks rather sour all of a sudden. you trail off, intimidated.

“i’ve got no clue about it being real or not, so take it with a grain of s-”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to say here, but i’ve heard enough,” she turns, voice flat. 

she moves, and you stay exactly where you are. you don’t have the energy to sit up. 

all you can think of is her desolate gaze, void of emotion, and the bizarre sound of the shocks. the laugh...what even was that? it was a sharp sound, triumphant, as if settling some score. but aradia didn’t seem like the type to provoke a fight. she was amiable before you fucked everything up. you wonder what the fuck could’ve happened to her. 

and why.

her figure reaches a cliff end, and she steps back before diving down the slope. the distant sounds of her breathing are still audible from where you’re sitting. she’s most definitely crossed past the area you’re not allowed to leave.

you look into the sky.

you’re alone in the graveyard again.


End file.
